Zhao Nige swore that at this moment, she must look absolutely stupid in Lu Yanling’s eyes.
Unintelligent, even.
She paused, her mind finally catching up. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his dark, piercing eyes beneath his deep brow.
No matter how she looked at it, there was a hint of hidden amusement in his expression.
Zhao Nige: “…”
She took a shallow breath and fixed him with a smile.
A smile of perfect, a eager willingness.
“Fine, cooking noodles, right? Simple. Leave it to me.”
She rolled up her shirt sleeves, turned on her heel, and marched toward the kitchen on her left.
Lu Yanling raised an eyebrow as he watched her charge in as if ready for battle.
He glanced at his watch. 12:00 to 2:00. That should give her plenty of time to wreak havoc.
***
The moment Zhao Nige stepped into the kitchen, she was completely lost.
In her twenty-some years, she could count the times she’d actually set foot in a kitchen on one hand. As a dancer, her diet had always been meticulously planned for her. Once she hit stardom and hired a private nutritionist, food was a concern she never had to worry about again.
The only “cooking” she knew was making instant noodles—tear open the flavor packets, pour in boiling water, and done.
Cooking dried noodles should be just as easy, she reasoned.
After a few minutes of studying the countertops, Zhao Nige felt confident enough to start. She opened the refrigerator, retrieved the noodles and eggs, and grabbed a jar of Lao Ganma chili crisp on her way out.
She tossed the noodles into the pot, but they were too long, sticking up at an awkward angle and getting in her way. She grabbed a spatula from a nearby hook to push the protruding noodles down, but she accidentally snapped them.
It’s the pot’s fault, she decided.
She glanced at the stir-fry pan beside her. It was larger, with a wider diameter. That should fit.
She fished the noodles out of the soup pot and tossed them into the stir-fry pan. In the chaos, her shirt hem caught on something, and the soup pot crashed to the floor. Its lid bounced away like a stray tire.
Lu Yanling, who had been in the living room, heard the clatter and clanging from the kitchen.
He frowned, about to go check on her.
Suddenly, Zhao Nige rushed out, brandishing a spatula and blocking the doorway.
“Don’t come in!” she commanded.
Lu Yanling stopped in his tracks, his gaze sweeping over her. His eyes traveled from the shirt tied around her waist up to her messy hair, tucked haphazardly behind her ear, before meeting her wide, wary eyes.
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
She had looked so elegant and composed just five minutes ago. To have made such a mess of herself in so little time… that was a talent in itself.
“Sure,” Zhao Nige replied with a smile, even tossing her hair. “I’m absolutely sure.”
“Fine,” Lu Yanling said, his gaze lingering on her with a hint of amusement. “Take your time.”
He turned on his heel and walked away.
Close call, Zhao Nige thought, letting out a breath of relief.
He had almost seen the lid rolling across the floor and the egg yolk splattered all over the outside of the bowl. She hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed a towel, frantically wiping down the counters.
She filled a large pot with water and set it on the stove. As it began to heat, she tapped her chin, wondering what to do next.
Right! No soup base. She had to mix some seasoning. But where were the spices?
Zhao Nige swung open the refrigerator and rummaged through its contents. Lu Yanling’s fridge was as stark as he was—containing nothing but a row of energy drinks, bottled water, a small bundle of noodles, and a carton of eggs.
She poked her head out of the kitchen. “Where’s the salt?”
Lu Yanling’s voice drifted from the study in the small living area. “The metal spice container on the left.”
Zhao Nige found it tucked into a corner. She retrieved the salt, then paused, realizing she was still missing something. She returned to the doorway. “And the soy sauce?”
“Top left cabinet.”
“Oh.” Zhao Nige turned back, opened the upper-left cabinet, and found the soy sauce.
After a moment, she poked her head out again. “What about the bowls? Where are they?”
Lu Yanling set down his pen and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stood up and walked toward the kitchen.
As he entered, Zhao Nige’s eyes darted guiltily. She quickly sidestepped to block his view, pressing her body against the countertop to shield the mess. “You just need to tell me where the bowls are.”
Lu Yanling stopped in front of her, his expression impassive.
Zhao Nige’s guilt mounted under his gaze. She looked down, her eyes wandering, the tips of her ears flushing crimson with embarrassment.
Lu Yanling stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning in slightly as he studied her with a serious expression. “You don’t actually know how to cook noodles, do you?”
“Who says!” Zhao Nige retorted instantly.
The more guilty she felt, the louder she protested. “Just tell me where the bowls are, and then you can leave! Stop getting in my way!”
Lu Yanling watched her evasive eyes and took a step closer.
As she instinctively backed away, he kept his gaze fixed on her and moved closer.
“Wh-What are you doing?”
Zhao Nige leaned back, her waist and supporting arms pressed firmly against the countertop.
With their noses just an inch or two apart, Lu Yanling glanced down at her flushed face and ears. Then, lifting his gaze, he reached over her head and opened the cabinet directly above the counter.
He acted as if nothing were amiss, retrieving two soup bowls of different sizes and placing them beside her. “Bowls,” he said, meeting her eyes, “are usually kept in the bowl cabinet.”
Zhao Nige stared at him, speechless.
What am I supposed to do? she wondered. I want to scream at him.
The man had been deliberately tormenting her from the very beginning!
Just as she was glaring daggers at him, a sudden hiss sounded from behind her. A wave of searing heat washed over her back.
She spun around in confusion to see the noodles boiling over. A thick layer of white foam surged up, spilling over the rim of the pot in wave after wave.
Never having seen noodles boil over like this, she panicked and reached for the handle, only to have the scalding foam sear her fingers.
“Ah!”
Zhao Nige jerked her hand away in a reflexive flinch. But with the pot handle directly beneath her, the motion sent the boiling noodles tipping toward the edge of the stove.
Seeing the scalding liquid about to spill, Lu Yanling reacted instantly. He pulled her to his side, stepped forward, and caught the falling wok, quickly turning off the heat.
He managed to keep the pot from hitting the floor, but most of the noodles soup still sloshed out, Lu Yanling twisting his body to block the brunt of it.
The boiling white liquid soaked his camouflage uniform, the water seeping in so quickly that steam actually rose from the fabric.
Zhao Nige, still tucked safely in his arms, stared in stunned confusion, unable to process what had just happened.
When she finally came to, her eyes fell on his waist. “Are you okay…?”
Before she could finish, the man’s face hardened. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the sink.
He turned on the faucet, holding her scalded finger under the cold stream.
Zhao Nige watched him, her gaze drifting down to his waist. She barely felt the sting in her own finger; instead, she wondered if the half-pot of boiling water had seriously burned him.
“Let me see your waist,” Zhao Nige said, reaching with her uninjured hand to lift the hem of his shirt. Her fingers brushed the fabric, trying to slip underneath.
“What are you doing?” He jerked his hips back, evading her touch.
His expression darkened. “Don’t move.” His tone was nearly harsh.
Zhao Nige stopped.
She stood still, staring at his stern, tight-lipped face. She wasn’t wearing much today—just a silk shirt over the same camisole dress from the night before. Her mind raced with the thought of what would have happened if that boiling soup had hit her instead of him.
Lu Yanling’s brow furrowed as he held her hand under the cold water, turning it over and over to inspect it. Only when he was sure the redness was limited to her middle fingertip did he finally let go.
He raised his eyes to meet hers, only to be caught off guard by her soft, concerned gaze.
After a few tense seconds, he averted his eyes and grunted, “Hold it yourself. Keep rinsing.”
He glanced at the mess on the kitchen counter. “Leave this. I’ll clean it up later.”
With that, he walked out of the kitchen.
Zhao Nige watched his retreating figure, then looked at the chaos she’d caused. A wave of regret washed over her.
Zhao Nige tapped her head, cursing her own clumsiness.
She withdrew her finger from the faucet. Only after a moment did the stinging burn beneath the skin finally register.
I only scalded one finger, she thought. But the soup hit his entire side. How bad is the burn?
Before long, Lu Yanling returned. He had shed his camouflage jacket, now wearing only a loose, olive-drab T-shirt.
Zhao Nige’s gaze kept drifting to his waist. “Your side… is it okay?”
Lu Yanling fixed her with a suspicious stare. “Do you want me to be hurt?”
“No! I’m just worried about you,” Zhao Nige said, blinking innocently.
The military dormitory was cramped, and the kitchen was a narrow galley. She pressed herself against the wall, wringing her hands with the anxious air of a student awaiting punishment.
A dull ache throbbed in Lu Yanling’s temple.
He turned and efficiently cleared the cluttered counter. “You’re done here. Get out.”
Zhao Nige blinked. “Are you kicking me out?”
Lu Yanling turned back to her, his voice strained as if he were grinding his teeth. “I’m telling you to stand in the living room so you’re not in my way.”
Zhao Nige murmured, “Oh…”
Fine, I’ll leave. No need to be so aggressive.
***
She wandered into the living area, taking her time to survey Lu Yanling’s quarters.
Although it was a bachelor’s apartment, it had everything: a kitchen, a living room, and even a dedicated study nook off the main area, complete with a desk and several bookshelves stacked high with volumes.
While he was busy in the kitchen, Zhao Nige peeked into the bedroom. She stood in the doorway and glanced inside. Aside from a standard-width bed with a perfectly folded, military-style comforter and a single wardrobe against the wall, the room was virtually empty.
She didn’t go in, turning instead to the small study.
They say the books a person reads can reveal their character and preferences. Zhao Nige scanned the shelves, her eyes landing on a collection of historical texts from ancient China and abroad, biographies of famous figures, treatises on military strategy, and dry academic works on geography and geology. Every book was thicker than a brick.
One would think this was the study of some old scholar, she mused.
Serious, disciplined, but utterly boring.
That was her verdict based on the books. Her gaze then drifted to the desk, where she noticed a document left open. He must have been reading it just before stepping into the kitchen.
Zhao Nige’s gaze had just fallen on the headline—XX Special Operations Brigade Special Training Exercise Plan—when Lu Yanling emerged from the kitchen, cutting her off before she could read any further.
Finding her standing by his desk, her eyes darting around, he shot her a cold glance as he carried two bowls of noodles. “What are you snooping for? Military secrets aren’t for your eyes.”
Zhao Nige turned, clearing her throat to hide her fluster. “I wasn’t snooping. I just saw the scissors on your desk and wanted to borrow them.”
Lu Yanling fixed her with a stare. “What do you need scissors for?”
“You’ll find out in a moment,” she replied with a smile.
He set the bowls on the dining table and gave her another warning glance. “Don’t touch anything in the study.”
As he turned back to the kitchen for chopsticks and spoons, Zhao Nige hurried over. She pulled his larger bowl closer and, with a few quick snips of the scissors, trimmed the fried egg on top into a heart shape.
She then slid the bowl back into place without a sound.
When Lu Yanling returned, he found her leaning on the table, her cheeks resting in her palms. She was chewing something, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she watched him.
Lu Yanling sized her up before pulling out a chair and sitting down.
Bending his head, he saw a heart-shaped fried egg resting on top of his noodles. He glanced at her, her cheeks still working as she chewed. After a moment, he calmly picked up his chopsticks, shoved the heart-shaped egg into his mouth without a second glance, and finished it in two bites.
“How was it?” Zhao Nige asked, her voice brimming with anticipation.
Lu Yanling raised an eyebrow. “How was what? The way you ask, you’d think you cooked the noodles and fried the egg.”
Zhao Nige’s lips parted. “I—”
This is why I’m at a disadvantage, she thought. I have no ground to stand on.
She couldn’t even bring herself to argue. After all, she was the one who had nearly blown up his kitchen and gotten him injured. And, most importantly, she certainly wasn’t the one who had made this bowl of egg noodles.
All she could do was use a little cleverness in other ways. Unfortunately, he wasn’t buying any of it—and he had just ruthlessly called her out.
Zhao Nige glared at him, snatched up her own chopsticks, and stuffed a mouthful of noodles into her mouth in a huff.
Huh? This actually tastes pretty good.
Zhao Nige’s mind raced, her eyes gleaming with a new scheme.
She toyed with the noodles in her bowl, her gaze drifting to the lean, powerful muscles of his forearm exposed by his short-sleeved shirt.
“I must be the first girl to ever visit your dorm, right?”
Lu Yanling glanced up, seeing the undisguised smugness and certainty in her eyes. Now that the chaos had subsided, she was already eager to start poking at him again.
“What gives you that impression?” he asked casually.
His tone was cool, yet it struck Zhao Nige as strangely flippant.
She gestured with her chin toward the two bowls on the table. “You don’t even have two matching soup bowls. Who else would ever eat here?”
Lu Yanling withdrew his gaze and continued eating at his own pace. After finishing a mouthful, he took a napkin, wiped his lips, and looked at her with a half-smile. “I don’t usually eat with other people. We just skip straight to the main event.”
Zhao Nige froze.
She stared back at him, her mind blank for two long seconds.
Then the realization hit her—he was talking about her.
She’d walked in here today with the explicit intention of getting straight to the main event.
But when it came to verbal sparring, Zhao Nige never lost.
She grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “As expected of Eldest Young Master Lu. Your prowess is truly formidable.”
Lu Yanling fell silent.
Sharp-tongued little thing.
He finished his noodles in a few bites, stood up, and cleared the bowls into the kitchen. Checking the time, he walked straight to the study.
As he passed the dining table, he said to Zhao Nige, “You can leave once you’ve finished eating.”
Lu Yanling sat down at his desk and returned to the document laid open before him, completely ignoring her now.
Zhao Nige had planned to drag out the meal and flirt with him a bit longer, but he’d given her no opening, finishing his food in mere minutes.
She wasn’t about to leave just like that.
If she missed this rare chance to be alone with him, the Great System God would call her a hopeless case.
Her mind raced, searching for any excuse to keep the conversation going. “Why didn’t I see you in the audience at the art performance yesterday?”
Lu Yanling looked up from the document, his gaze sweeping over her.
His expression was inscrutable, his intentions hidden.
From across the small hall, Zhao Nige couldn’t fathom what that look meant. Her eyes drifted to the wall of books behind him.
Did reading all those treatises on strategy and manipulation make him a fan of psychological warfare? she wondered.
Lu Yanling withdrew his gaze, his pen scratching a few more notes on the paper.
“Why are you looking for me?”
Zhao Nige leaned back in her chair, propping her cheek on one hand. Her eyes sparkled. “I fought specifically to perform here at the base for you. If you didn’t watch, wasn’t my performance a waste?”
“Is that so?” Lu Yanling’s tone remained flat as he focused back on his work. “Then you’ll be disappointed. I didn’t see it.”
Zhao Nige rose and walked toward him.
She stopped beside his desk, crossing her arms as she studied him. Then, she leaned forward, her body curving as she pressed close to the desk.
“Eldest Young Master Lu,” she murmured, her voice low and intimate, “could it be… you knew I was performing, so you deliberately skipped it?”
Lu Yanling let out a faint, scoffing laugh.
Lu Yanling’s fountain pen flew across the document, signing his name in a few swift strokes. He capped the pen with a sharp click.
Thwack.
He closed the file and stood up, completely ignoring Zhao Nige as she struck a pose before him. Without a glance her way, he slid the document into a briefcase, grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, and turned to her. “Miss Zhao, the meal is over. After you.”
Zhao Nige, still leaning over the desk with her hips arched, froze.
She straightened up as if nothing had happened, smoothed her hair, and flashed him a smile. As long as I’m not the one embarrassed, it’s someone else’s problem.
Lu Yanling gave her a flat look before turning to open the door.
Zhao Nige watched his retreating back. No, I can’t just leave like this. I haven’t gotten anything out of this visit yet.
A sudden idea struck her. She swiftly unclipped the stud earring from her lobe and set it on the desk.
As she followed him out, just as Lu Yanling was closing the door behind them, she teased, “Eldest Young Master Lu, I’ve discovered you actually have some real potential as a devoted husband.”
Lu Yanling turned, his gaze warningly sharp.
Zhao Nige covered her smile with her hand, her eyes shimmering with amusement.
***
Lu Yanling took the lead, walking in silence as they headed downstairs.
He kept a distance of several feet between them, his combat boots striking the ground in long strides. The cold, imposing aura he had briefly dropped now settled back around him.
He led her along a different route from the one they had arrived on, and along the way, they didn’t encounter a single other soldier.
Finally, he stopped at an intersection. Without turning to look at her, he said, “Walk a hundred meters straight, then turn right. You’ll find the parking lot.”
Zhao Nige ground the toes of her shoes into the ground, refusing to move. She turned to him, blinked, and then reached up to touch her ear.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed, her expression one of sudden dismay. “I think I left an earring back at your place.”
“What should we do?” She looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes.
Lu Yanling paused, his gaze sweeping over her. She met his stare with an innocent, wide-eyed expression, her long lashes fluttering. But the slight curve of her lips betrayed her little scheme.
Lu Yanling swept his gaze over her, a soft chuckle escaping his nose.
“That’s easy,” he said, his tone deceptively accommodating. “If you’re in a hurry, Miss Zhao, I can go back and get it for you right now.”
“Oh! No, that’s not necessary.”
Zhao Nige had left the earring behind to create an excuse for another meeting, but she hadn’t intended to use it this soon.
“Climbing all those stairs is exhausting, and I’m not in any rush,” she said, playing the part of the considerate one. A small smile touched her lips as her mind raced. “How about this? Whenever you’re free, we can set a time, and you can just bring it with you then.”
Lu Yanling gave her a meaningful look and nodded. “Fine. Let’s talk about it in a month.”
A month?
What does that mean?
Zhao Nige stood frozen for a moment, but Lu Yanling had already turned and strode away.
“Hey!” she called out, rising on her tiptoes. “Lu Yanling! What do you mean, ‘in a month’?”